


You Know Where To Find Me

by The-Clairvoyant-Rick (MajixTrixx)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal, Angst, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Emotionally ambiguous ending, Hurt!Morty, M/M, Pining, Pining!Morty, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajixTrixx/pseuds/The-Clairvoyant-Rick
Summary: As much of an asshole as Rick was, as manipulative and cruel and downright hurtful as the man could be, especially to him, Rick wasn't a rapist, and he never had been. If Morty said stop, if he told Rick to stop touching him and to get off, he knew his grandpa would listen. He knew Rick would walk away from him. And that's precisely why he'd never say it. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how badly Morty wanted to shove him away and tell Rick to fuck off, he couldn't. Because if he did, the older man would listen, and that'd be the end.





	You Know Where To Find Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> It's been a while since I've released anything solo (Back in December I think? For the Secret Santa?) but I'm back! Man.. lemme tell you, I really stepped outside of my comfort zone for this one! I've never written dubcon or unrequited love before! So this was a pretty cool experience and I was grateful for the challenge! I'm actually really pleased with how this turned out! I was a bit nervous but now I'm rather excited to release it to you guys and hopefully get some feedback about it. 
> 
> This work is also a prize for my writing giveaway on Tumblr! First prize for the user @RickthisDick! Man, they went all out on the prompt and I was happy to bring it to life for them. They're so sweet! If you haven't seen their blog or talked to them you definitely should(: I have it on good authority that liked it as well and so I'm hoping that you guys will too! I'd also like to give a shout out to the Tumblr (and a03) users Futagogo and Triplex-Tyrant for editing this! This story wouldn't have come out nearly as solid without you guys! 
> 
> Much love,  
> Clair <3

The veil that existed between consciousness and the blissfully silent and unknowing world of sleep was infinitely thin these days. Half the time, it felt like Morty didn't sleep at all. It felt like he would lie in bed with his eyes closed, unmoving, waiting for everything to disappear as he was swallowed by unconsciousness only to have his eyes open once more, light shining through his window -- confirmation that he'd lost his chance. But, in reality, Morty was used to that. His entire life felt like a lost chance these days.  
There used to be a difference between living and existing. There used to be days where he looked forward to the bright, morning rays. Days where he eagerly dashed down the stairs and waited for the sun to crawl higher in the sky. He used to mean it when he smiled. He used to enjoy the little things: good days at school or breakfast with his family or the unconventional adventures he had with Rick. Morty used to do a lot of things, but now there was only existing.

Existing and waiting. But tonight, Morty didn't have to wait.

  
Even half asleep and not altogether aware of his surroundings, Morty knew exactly what had woken him. He was hypersensitive to the long, spidery fingers gripping his thighs just a little too tightly with a sense of familiarity that Morty wished they didn't have. He could feel the intent in that grasp as if it were a physical response rather than one that had been ingrained by repetition. It was the ghost of a hundred touches just like it, something that'd fallen into the category of routine and a constant reminder to the teen feeling them to be very careful of what you wish for.

"Morty."

Rick's voice cut through the silence of his room with a finality that nearly made the boy flinch under what few covers he had.

Morty wanted to just pretend that he was asleep. He wanted to roll over and squeeze his eyes shut until Rick got the message and left him alone. But Rick never got the message. And if he did, he ignored it. Morty knew how this would play out. If he didn't respond, Rick would get impatient. He'd rub his thighs a little longer, maybe play with his stomach and the baby fat that he just couldn’t rid himself of; and if that didn't work, he'd get more aggressive. He'd straddle Morty's chest and pinch his cheeks. He'd growl out his name like a warning, and, when the teen finally acknowledged him, when he opened his eyes and took in the sight of his mentor towering above him, cock already hard and waiting, he'd get his face fucked for his trouble. It was a game they played often, one that used to be different.

Morty used to look forward to moments like these. It used to be something he'd lie in bed waiting for, heart racing and utterly breathless with anticipation. Now it was just a chore.

Keeping his sigh internal, lest he put Rick in a bad mood, Morty finally forced his eyes open and lifted his head to look down the length of his own body, unable to even feign surprise. Rick was exactly where Morty knew that he'd be, positioned between his splayed legs, hands on his thighs, half slouched over his groin, eyes trained on the teen's face with a lecherous grin.

"Rise a-and shine, Sleeping B- _eeuuugh_ -beauty."

In spite of his attempt to remain as neutral as possible, Morty could hear the exhaustion in his own voice as he replied, "C'mon, Rick, I had a long day yesterday, a-and I'm really not in the mood. Maybe tomorrow."

But, just as Morty knew he would, Rick shook his head, his grin evolving into a lopsided smirk that lingered right on the edge of sinister. Morty felt his stomach twist with discomfort. That look used to give him butterflies, even before they started... whatever it was that they had. It meant that Rick had something in store for him. It meant that the older man was set in his ways, decision already made, and, while that look still managed to set his nerves alight, it was no longer a pleasant feeling. It wasn't something he looked forward to seeing. Even when they were out adventuring and Rick flashed Morty one of those grins, all he could see was this exact thing, Rick poised above him like a snake with a mouse in its sight, lips twisted in a smirk that didn't exactly bode well for him. Morty knew that it'd never be the same.

Strong, confident hands slipped further up Morty's thighs without the slightest hitch or worry, like Rick knew that he was welcome and that he wouldn't be rejected, even though all Morty really wanted to do was push him away. But he didn't. He didn't push Rick away when the older man pinched one of his inner thighs or when Rick took hold of his hips. Morty didn't push Rick away when he leaned down and started nipping at his stomach a bit too roughly, the warmth of his lips not outweighed by the carelessness of his teeth, and he didn't push him away when Rick spread his legs just that much wider.

"I don't think so, Mo- _euuurp_ -rty. I don't want to play th-th-this game tonight. We both know you want what I've got."

The teen all but slammed his head back against his favorite pillow, sighing as he glared angrily up at the popcorn ceiling with tears in his eyes and an ever-constricting labyrinth of briar bushes around his heart. Rick always got his way. Even when Morty thought he'd won, it was usually just a distraction from Rick's other plans. The older man let him win when it suited him. He shrugged things off just enough to keep Morty off his back, and this was no different.

No matter what he said, no matter what excuse he gave, Rick always talked his way around it. With a tongue made of pure silver, more sinfully persuasive than the God of Lies himself, Rick never failed to coax Morty into doing what he wanted. Rick could run circles around his protests and often did. And when he didn't, when Rick didn't feel like playing subtle or explaining himself as he pushed past the brunet's limits, he simply barreled right through them. Rick used everything short of force, stripping the teen down and laying him on his back, prepping him and pushing forward even as Morty continued to stutter out words of hesitance.

And the one word that'd end it all was the one word Morty would never say.

As much of an asshole as Rick was, as manipulative and cruel and downright hurtful as the man could be, especially to him, Rick wasn't a rapist, and he never had been. If Morty said stop, if he told Rick to stop touching him and to get off, he knew his grandpa would listen. He knew Rick would walk away from him. And that's precisely why he'd never say it. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how badly Morty wanted to shove him away and tell Rick to fuck off, he couldn't. Because if he did, the older man would listen, and that'd be the end.

But that didn't mean the teen was willing to lie down and take it just yet.

"Jeez, Rick, seriously. I'm tired a-a-and I wanna go back to sleep. I've got, y'know, a pretty big test tomorrow, and I-I-I need to get up early."  
His words weren't nearly as firm as Morty wished they would've been, but his stutter hadn't tripped him up too badly, and Morty counted it as a victory.

But that would be his only victory of the night. Morty could tell.

In the next instant, Rick's lips were curling up in a sharp grin that was just on the wrong side of mischievous. His icy, blue eyes were alight, glowing with the sort of pleasure that only ever came at the expense of others. Morty felt his stomach shrink back with nervous fear. Rick's expression looked mean, and his smirk, the one that left Morty feeling very much like a mouse in the eyes of a hungry owl, was predatory to the point where Morty immediately labeled it as something that he should be wary of.

Rick, who was still touching him and dragging the neatly clipped flats of his fingernails up and down the exposed skin of Morty's stomach, didn't hesitate to abandon those touches in favor of something more likely to get him what he wanted.

"Your dick says differently, Morty." Rick sneered as he grabbed the waistband of Morty's pajama pants and jerked them down over his grandson's bony hips, revealing the vulnerable looking, half-mast erection in the teen's lap.

Rick continued to smirk when Morty turned his face away and, even without a mirror, Morty knew that his pale cheeks were colored with shame. "You try a-a-and act all -- all high and mighty, but you're just as much of a slut as you've been since day one. We both know y- _eeuuurp_ -you want Grandpa's cock, Morty."

The scientist drove that point even further home when he reached out with a rough hand to wrap his fingers around the brunet's shaft, dragging a pathetic moan from Morty's lips as Rick started to jerk him off. "You want your old man to shove his fat cock into your hole a-and fuck you. Isn't -- isn't that right, Morty? Do you want Grandpa to fuck you?"

As Morty tossed his head from side to side, whining and squirming under the merciless feeling of Rick's experienced fingers sliding up and down his shaft, he tried to convince himself that he was shaking his head _no_ , rather than being unable to stay still.

"You're such a -- such a fuckin' liar, Morty." Rick snarled, forcing Morty's underwear further down his thighs. "Playing coy doesn't suit you. Maybe you just need s-s-some -- some extra incentive. Huh? Is that it?"

Morty tried to open his mouth to say _no,_ that he didn't need incentive, that he didn't need anything other than for Rick to go the fuck away and stop making everything so goddamn difficult for him. But those words were stolen by the choked off sound that ripped from Morty's throat as Rick sucked his cock into his mouth, taking it all the way to the base without a care.

Rick's movements were choppy, the strokes of his mouth half-assed to the point of being almost mechanical, but they still pulled forth an entire slew of eager sounds from the teen. Even when Rick wasn't putting any real effort into it, sucking him off like it was a stepping stone towards getting what he actually wanted, which it was, the experience was still mind-blowing. Rick had so much experience, with both humans and non-humans alike, and that came through loud and clear for Morty with every bob of his grandpa's head.

But that didn't mean it was perfect enough to distract Morty from the past.

He knew what Rick could do. Morty knew that his true talents could leave him screaming and fisting the sheets like his heart would give out any second. He'd been on the receiving end of Rick's wickedly talented mouth more than once, brought to his metaphorical knees by the experience of his grandfather's tongue, but, even with how good it felt now, Morty still liked to remember how wonderful it'd been before.

Morty liked to close his eyes, something he was already doing, and imagine the way Rick used to take him to pieces. He liked picturing the way Rick used to look up at him when he did it, like he was watching his lover fall apart at the seams with every single suck, and he couldn't bear to miss a moment of it. Morty liked to remember the way it felt to be wanted. He remembered how taken care of he felt back then. He remembered Rick putting him first for once and giving him all the pleasure Morty could possibly imagine, sucking him through one orgasm and mouthing at his limp cock until Morty was ready to go again. Morty remembered thinking that he felt beautiful, that Rick wouldn't be able to look at him with such want and desire if he weren't something worth having, and he remembered feeling like he was more than some undesirable outcast to the one person in his life that mattered.

It was an incredible feeling, one that made Morty's heart soar above the clouds with more joy and happiness than he'd ever felt before... But that hadn't lasted long. Like Icarus, flying high in the sky, feeling like nothing could possibly bring him down, Morty, too, felt the wax binding of his wings together start to melt as things changed between them. Long gone were those moments of affection and care. Gone were the looks that left Morty breathless and dizzy with emotions he didn't even want to think about now. Gone was the soft side of Rick that he'd gotten the privilege to run his fingers through before being unexpectedly burned by the man's change of heart.

It was all gone, replaced with cheap, meaningless sex that Morty didn't really want. Every time they came together, Morty left feeling dirtier than the time before. He felt used, like the condom that always got shucked and thrown in the trash. He felt like a cheap fuck now, a convenient body Rick used to scratch an itch, and Morty still couldn't find it in himself to stop what they were doing.

It was easier to imagine how it was before. When Rick was down between his legs, sucking sloppily and quick, eager to get past the tricks of the trade he was using to get his way, Morty imagined what it'd been like in the past. He imagined Rick's eyes and the curl of his lips. He imagined the husky sound of Rick's voice as he spoke and the way his grandpa's hands felt like they'd worshipped his body. He imagined the way Rick praised him and the warmth that'd filled his chest when Rick called him a good boy. He fantasized about anything other than what was happening and, somehow, that managed to make it all right.

So Morty imagined.

He imagined all those things and more as Rick slid his mouth up and down his length, ignoring the way his pubic hair started to feel matted and kind of gross with the abundance of saliva. He imagined the emotional connection he used to feel while Rick allowed him to buck his hips, pushing the head of his cock into the back of Rick's throat and gasping at the hot, wet heat he found there. He imagined anything other than what was actually happening between them as Rick tongued the tip of his cock and fondled his balls a little too roughly to be entirely pleasant.

Even still, Morty wasn't unaffected by what was happening.

By the time Rick pulled off his cock with a lewd pop, Morty was completely hard, his length straining for attention between his legs. His heart was still raw, the emotions behind his reluctance still very much alive, but the thoughts screaming through his brain about why this was wrong and why he should finally just put a stop to it once and for all were falling to the wayside. His conscience and its warnings were silenced by lust and the knowledge that, regardless of how good it was in the past compared to now, Rick would still take care of him. The older man would make him come one way or another. It'd satisfy the ache in his groin and, for his bleeding heart, once they'd both finished, Rick would leave.

"Riiick..." The teen whined pathetically, squirming in the older man's hold as Rick teased him with a couple last-minute licks to his shaft.

Morty shivered at the scoff that echoed in the small space around them, and it took more effort than he'd like to admit for him to prop himself up on his elbows to look down at his grandpa.

"I knew y-y-you wanted it, Morty. You always w- _eeeeurp_ -want it, don't you? Always an easy slut for Grandpa Rick."

Morty's lips trembled, his heart slamming frantically inside his chest at the utterance of those words, but he nodded nonetheless. They acted as a mnemonic, a reminder to the teen that this was his place now, that he was Grandpa's fuckboy and nothing more. Morty could've assured himself that it was just dirty talk and that Rick didn't mean it, but it would've been a lie. Those words were a constant reminder that he hadn't been wrong in his assumption, that he was nothing more than a convenient lay to the man who would always be his entire world.

Either Rick hadn't noticed what those thoughts were doing to Morty, oblivious to the quivers running through his grandson's thin frame, or he mistakenly assumed they were a sign of piqued arousal, because, moments later, the older man was gripping the teen's hips and re-angling Morty's pelvis.

"Lube?" Rick asked, waiting for Morty to hand it over.

That one question flooded the teen with momentary relief, and he was quick to reach for his bedside table, pushing things out of the way in search of lube. If Rick's dark, little chuckle was anything to go off of, the older man probably thought that he was just eager, excited to get Rick's fingers, and eventually his cock, inside his ass, and while that was at least partially true, it wasn't the only driving factor in Morty's near-frantic search for slick. He was always terrified that Rick wouldn't use it. That'd never scared him before, back when Rick was gentle, or at least somewhat gentle, but now... Now Rick was all eager impatience, ready to just get on with it and satisfy his own desires, and Morty was fearful that there would come a day when he didn't move fast enough and Rick got tired of waiting and decided to take him with nothing more than spit and pre-cum.

But, luckily for Morty, today wouldn't be that day.

After finding the elusive bottle and handing it over, Rick immediately popped the cap with his thumbnail and slicked up his fingers, coating two of the long, talented digits in clear gel. A small whimper pulled from Morty's lips as Rick went right for his opening, rubbing a single finger against his entrance. But Morty knew this dance well, and he knew Rick wouldn't go any further until he begged.

It was one of the things Morty hated most about all of their encounters. More than the memories of the past, more than his own feelings, more than the fact that it was happening at all, he hated the fact that Rick insisted on humiliating him further. He hated that, despite wanting Rick to go away or hurry up and get it over with or _whatever_ , he had to beg for his grandpa to keep going. There was a large portion of the teen that was of the opinion that Rick knew exactly how much he disliked it, and that's exactly why it was almost always a constant part of their mating ritual. He was ninety-nine percent positive that Rick knew exactly how shameful it felt for him to beg for more when all he really wanted was to curl up and hide. Though the older man might not have known just how much resentment had built up in Morty's heart, the teen had absolutely no doubt in his mind that Rick knew, or at least sensed, that he didn't want to do this anymore and that the older man didn't care. This was Rick's way of establishing dominance. It was his way of forcing Morty to bend to his will and make the decision to keep going rather than just bowing under Rick's determination to push past his excuses. It was Rick's way of establishing consent, even if Morty didn't really want to give it.

Another whine echoed through the room as Rick applied a little more pressure, teasing him with the temptation of penetration without actually giving him anything, waiting for the boy to throw his reservations to the wind and embrace the situation by begging.

It didn't take long.

A couple more seconds of rubbing against his hole and a low growl from Rick had Morty's resolve splintering with a keening mewl of submission.

"P-put it in, Rick! Please!"

Like the fox heavy on the heels of the fleeing rabbit, Rick took immediate advantage of the first crack of many in Morty's defenses and started rubbing more insistently at the teen's entrance.

"You can do better than that, Morty," Rick encouraged condescendingly, pushing forward until the tight ring of muscle guarding the younger man's body opened enough to admit the very tip of his finger before pulling back, obviously enjoying Morty's soft cry of distress. "Beg for Grandpa to fuck you like you mean it, Morty."

Arms shaking and threatening to give out beneath him at any minute, Morty fell back against his bed with a nearly devastated sound as he pushed his hips back towards Rick's touches, feeling hot, frustrated tears pooling in his eyes when Rick gave him less and less stimulation with every passing second of silence.

"Please," Morty warbled, throwing away all the pride and dignity that he possessed as he asked for what he needed but didn't want. "P-please open me up until you can give me y-y-your fat cock, Rick. I want you to fuck me u-until I can't do anything other th-th-than beg for you to fuck my slutty ass."

Enamored with the proof of his victory, Rick rewarded the boy almost instantly, murmuring out a quietly spoken, "Good boy, Morty," as he slid his pointer finger all the way inside the teen's body.

As Morty's back arched gracefully from the bed, a gasp clinging to his lips, he told himself that his reaction was from the sensation rather than the validation of Rick acknowledging him and calling him good. It made sense with how on edge he already was, but, as Rick started to work his finger slowly in and out of his body, Morty knew that wasn't the case, and it probably never would be.

It was always ironic to Morty that the best part of their coupling came after the worst. Rick always made him beg before he went any further, but there was always a reward. Rick was always gentlest when he was fingering Morty open. The movements were slow, like Rick actually cared if he got hurt, which Morty always tended to doubt, but it _felt_ like affection, and to Morty, who'd been starved for that for as long as he could remember, even the illusion was enough to keep him coming back.

As Rick stared down between Morty's legs, watching his fingers open the brunet up bit by bit, Morty's lungs felt like they’d decided it'd be an opportune moment to stop working. He couldn't breathe. The burn of penetration was nothing compared to the explosion of sensation inside his chest when Rick started actively trying to loosen him up. The older man was pumping his finger in and out at just the right speed, brushing his inner walls with just enough pressure to make the teen squirm and, as Rick easily sought out his prostate with the sort of casual experience Morty had envied since day one, the teen gasped.

"L- _eeeurp_ -looks like I found it, huh? Fuck, Morty, look at you. So fuckin' gorgeous, Morty. Taking it so good. Does it feel good, babe -- baby? I'm gonna give you so much more in just a minute," Rick murmured between them, his voice husky and rough with lust.

Morty whimpered helplessly as Rick's words reached his ears, and his body started to tremble.

This, this was why he'd never be able to tell Rick to stop. It's why he could never send the older man away or put an end to their late-night activities. It was the calm in the storm, the flicker in time where Morty didn't have to pretend or look to the past for what he really needed. It was one of the only times that Rick offered up the emotional connection that Morty needed without the theatrics. Praise fell from Rick's lips as if they were the insults Morty was so used to hearing instead. Rick was so careful with him. He opened him up the same way he had the very first time they'd had sex, back when Morty still thought about it as "making love," and Morty was a slave to that. He was held captive by the gentle touches, a prisoner to Rick's praise and the love he felt, no matter how fleeting it was.

But tonight felt different somehow.

Morty felt even more emotionally desperate than he usually did. He felt raw, flayed open and exposed to Rick's knowing gaze as he moaned and panted, writhing around Rick's fingers and rolling back against them when he could manage it. He felt like Rick could see his heart, like his grandpa, his _lover_ \-- if he could really still call Rick that -- could understand the sheer amount of need he felt to be validated and appreciated. Even more than that, though, it felt like Rick was giving him that acknowledgement.

"Christ, Morty," Rick choked out, wiggling another finger in alongside the first.

An obvious shiver raced down Rick's spine when Morty's cock twitched between them in response, precome spilling onto his already slick stomach as the teen all but sobbed the older man's name, the muscles of his opening clamping down around Rick's fingers.

"You're so -- so fuckin' tight tonight, Morty. You want it th-th-that badly, huh? Are you desperate for Grandpa's cock, Morty? Stretching you open until you feel l-like you're gonna break? You achin' t-t-t -- achin' to get fucked, Morty?"

Rick's free hand clamped down on Morty's hip as he spoke, grounding the boy and keeping him from bucking Rick's fingers out, but it did little to change just how affected Morty was. The teen was nodding along with everything that Rick said, chanting a soft mantra of his name and words like "yes" and "more" and "please" between various swears of encouragement even though it wasn't the truth.

He wasn't eager to get fucked. He wasn't desperate for more. He was desperate for Rick's love, tonight more so than usual, and maybe that's why when he grabbed his partner's hand from his hip and laced their fingers, Rick let him. Maybe the older man could tell just how much Morty needed to be held. Maybe he could see how close the brunet was to shattering inside, and that's why he didn't complain. Or maybe part of Rick wanted some sort of connection too. Morty didn't know, all he knew was that, from the moment Rick returned the gesture, giving his hand a small squeeze as he started to scissor the boy open, Morty absolutely lost it.

He was a writhing mass of sensation, barely able to remember that the house wasn't empty and that he needed to be at least somewhat quiet, all but oblivious to the fact that his parents and sister were sleeping just down the hall. His legs were bent at the knees and spread open as far as possible, his genitals put on complete display, trusting and open, and he was practically fucking himself on Rick's fingers. He was whining the older man's name like a prayer, his chest quivering with emotions demanding to be let free, his lungs shaky and not wanting to work, and it only got worse.

Rick was cooing at him, dipping his head to kiss and nip the inside of his thighs, and Morty was in heaven. Rick was murmuring Spanish against his saliva-dampened skin, the words soft and barely audible between them, and though Morty couldn't understand anything that was being said, he could almost believe that Rick was telling him he loved him. He could believe that those words were sweet nothings, that Rick was showing compassion when he needed it most, and Morty could do nothing but vocalize his pleasure, squeezing Rick's hand and trying to ignore the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

But, all too soon, it drew to a close. Morty wasn't even sure when Rick had managed to get a third finger inside of him, but the teen could feel his lover's movements change. He felt Rick's touches slow, lingering inside of him for a moment longer, as they always did, before Rick started to pull them free and Morty let out a choked sound of desperation.  
Morty clenched his muscles around Rick's retreating fingers, trying to hold them inside, trying to keep Rick from leaving, and when he spoke, Morty knew that his heart was laid out for Rick to see.

"P-p-please, Rick. N-not yet, I'm not -- I'm not ready yet. Just --" Thick with emotion, Morty could barely keep going, the words lodged in his throat like a physical obstruction, and when he finally forced them out, his voice broke immediately. "Just another second, Rick, please. Just one -- one more minute. I'll do whatever you w-want, just, please."

Shiny with tears and unspoken emotion, unable to hide the fear of rejection in his expression, Morty looked down his body at Rick and felt his heart stop when he met the cornflower blues of his grandpa's gaze. His lungs mimicked the merciless vacuum of space, tightly compacted and without oxygen, as Rick stared up at him with an unreadable expression. His lips were set in a firm line, his face closed off, purposefully neutral, and Morty could practically feel the bite of Rick's razor-sharp tongue preparing to rip him apart.

Tears spilled blindly from the younger man's eyes,, but Rick noticed. Nothing in his body language betrayed that, but Morty could tell that he'd definitely seen the tell-tale droplets rolling down his face by the way he continued to stare.

There were no more words between them. No more pleas from Morty, no more demands from Rick. There was only unbroken silence, tense and emotionally charged. It seemed to stretch on forever, growing thicker and more intense with every passing second. But then, as though they'd never stopped, the moment was broken when Rick looked away and continued the ministrations with his fingers. He wasn't speaking. He wasn't cooing at the brunet or calling him “good” in either of the languages he frequented, but his hands were gentle. Rick's fingers slid effortlessly in and out of Morty's body, caressing his inner walls as the boy relaxed even further, panting and rocking back to meet every stroke.

Morty basked in the victory, in the knowledge that, on some level, Rick cared about him. Even if it was selfish, even if Rick only kept going to keep him pliant and accepting, even if his motivations were entirely self-centered, he still listened. He'd given in the teen's pleas without a single nasty comment and, to Morty, that was worth everything. It was worth the heartache that'd inevitably come later.

But Morty didn't think about that.

He thought about the way Rick's fingers felt inside of him. He thought about the touch of Rick's lips to his skin, about the goosebumps breaking out along the cradle of his pelvis as Rick kissed and nipped at the angular bones that made up his hips. He thought about the way his lover felt like a lover, about the way Rick was petting him from the inside out, about the way Rick was pushing his fingers in slow and deep, like he wanted to get them as far into Morty's body as he possibly could. Morty thought about what was happening. Not the past. Not the future. The present. He thought about Rick, about what the older man was doing to him, _for_ _him_ , and every gasp, every whine, every mewled-out whimper was for the man above him. It was his vocalized gratitude for Rick's momentary submission to the desires of his heart.

And to Morty's surprise, Rick was far more giving than he'd originally anticipated. Rather than rushing through the prolonged prep, giving Morty the bare minimum of what he'd requested, Rick continued to open him up for at least another five minutes. Or maybe it was closer to ten. Morty didn't know. He didn't need to know. All he knew was that he felt cared for. Even without Rick speaking to him from between his legs, Morty felt that way. So, when Rick finally pulled his fingers free and sat up on his knees, shucking off his shirt and labcoat, his ratty tank top nowhere to be found, and started undoing his belt, Morty didn't utter a single protest.

Because there were none.

Morty was a melted puddle of desire and conflicting emotions that had balanced themselves out long enough to remain silent. He was docile, his legs spread, body open, cheeks flushed with desire. He was the very definition of wanton, and when Rick released his hand in favor of grabbing both of his legs just under the backs of his knees and pushing them towards his chest, Morty didn't fight it. He simply took the silent cue and held his legs like Rick wanted, blushing softly at the knowing smirk that graced Rick's lips as he reached for the lube once more.

Sympathetic pleasure raced down Morty's spine as he watched Rick pour some of the clear, viscous liquid into his palm and smear it over his flushed and ready cock with a groan. Morty could imagine just how good a set of slick fingers must feel around Rick's length right about now, especially with the knowledge that it had remained trapped inside his trousers for longer than usual while Rick adhered to his earlier request.

Grabbing onto the back of Morty's left thigh to balance himself, Rick positioned the tip of his cock against the well-prepped entrance of Morty's body with a grunt. The teen whined helplessly as Rick teased his hole a bit, rubbing the slick head of his dick back and forth against his entrance, as though he were waiting for something, but rather than waiting for Rick to ask like he normally did, Morty took the initiative between them for the first time in many encounters.

"Rick."

His voice was deep, rough and strained with arousal, but it got the older man's attention immediately. Rick looked up, meeting Morty's eyes with something that could almost be compared to hesitance, which Morty supposed he could understand. He knew Rick would stop if he asked. He knew Rick would hike up his trousers and leave with a dismissive sneer if Morty told him that he didn't want it, and maybe that's what Rick thought was about to happen. Morty couldn't remember the last time they'd differed so much from the norm, first with his begging pleas for more of Rick's unspoken affection, and then again with him being the one to speak up before Rick asked him to beg once more. Morty could definitely understand why Rick might be a bit wary, even if he was exceptionally good at hiding it.

But asking Rick to stop was the absolute last thing on Morty's mind.

"I-I-I need it, Rick," Morty stammered, worrying the soft flesh of his spit-slicked lower lip between his teeth as he watched Rick suck in a subtle breath. "I need y-your cock inside of me, Rick. I need you to make me come. Please, Grandpa Rick, fuck me. I-I'll..."

Morty cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before whispering, "I'll be a good boy, Rick, just fuck me."

Morty opened his eyes once more, desperate to meet Rick's gaze, but the older man wasn't looking at him. Not at his face, at least. Rick was too busy staring down at his own cock and where it was positioned against the tight guardian ring of muscle that normally kept Morty's body closed to him. He had a firm look on his face, one that made Morty slightly uneasy, but when he opened his mouth to ask the older man what was wrong, Rick pulled his hips back and slammed them forward, burying his sizable length all the way inside of Morty's body with one, smooth stroke.

Even with the extra prep, Morty felt like he was being split open on Rick's fat cock. Which he was. The sharp, intense burn of swift penetration stole the air from his lungs, leaving him breathless and wide-eyed as he tried to find his bearings, clenching around Rick's shaft with a pained whine. But Rick, having already spent the majority of his self-control moments earlier when he’d abided Morty's request, didn't wait for the teen to adjust.

The older man's starting pace was swift and right on the edge of punishing, the grip he had on Morty's thigh tight enough to bruise, and Morty couldn't do anything other than let out a string of guttural moans. The pain was intense, jolting through his lower half and up his spine with every single stroke and Morty was _loving it._ He couldn't get enough of the burning heat that speared through his insides every time Rick drove his hips forward, trying to get deeper and farther inside of his body. Morty was all but held hostage by the filthy sound of lube squelching between them and the slap of skin meeting skin, in love with the burning muscles in his thighs and the way Rick dug his fingers in so mercilessly.

"Rick!" Morty cried breathlessly, clamping down ruthlessly around Rick's cock when the older man shifted slightly and struck his prostate without warning.

A slick, lube-covered hand immediately clapped over his mouth, silencing him as Rick continued to pound into him, his words primal and growled out as he spoke.

"Shut the _fuck_ up, Morty! Y-you want your mom to hear us? Huh? You want her to come investigate and see me fucking you? Is that what you want?"

Morty whined desperately behind Rick's hand. The thought of his mom hearing him was a horrific one, and Morty quickly started shaking his head back and forth as soon as Rick stopped speaking and he registered what’d been said, but, even as he denied it, Morty felt a small, fear-based thrill echo through him, making his cock even harder.  
The way his dick twitched in response, spilling even more pre-cum onto his already messy stomach, wasn't lost on Rick, and the older man sneered in response, slowing his strokes until he was slamming into Morty slow and impossibly deep.

"You're a real -- a real sick fuck, Morty," Rick growled between thrusts. "You want your fuckin' mom seeing this shit? You want her to see you getting your ass pounded a-a-and loving every second? You want her to see what a slut you are for your grandpa?"

Rick's tone was just on the other side of condescending, spoken as though Rick really was shaming him for his body's unconscious reaction to the thought, and that scrap of humiliation just turned Morty on more.

Grabbing one of the teen's legs, Rick hitched the limb up over his shoulder and held it tightly to his chest as he abandoned his measured pace. Upping his game without a single hint of warning, Rick started jackhammering into the body beneath him. He used the hand he had on Morty's mouth as partial leverage, pressing the back of the boy's head further into the mattress as he did, flattening his curls even more and making his jaw ache, but Morty was immensely grateful for the silencer because he was going crazy under Rick. The older man wasn't cruel enough to abuse his prostate right off the bat, at least not with how fast and sharp his strokes were at the current moment, but the head of Rick's dick kept rubbing up against the little gland with every fast-paced thrust, and Morty was losing his mind. He was squealing behind Rick's hand, his toes curled up at the assault of pleasure as he writhed helplessly, and the older man was smirking down at him with a knowing grin.

"Yeah, baby, you like that?" Rick asked breathlessly, momentarily releasing his hold on Morty's thigh to push his sweat-dampened blue hair away from his forehead. "Grandpa knows how to fuck you, isn't that r- _euurp_ -right, Morty? Grandpa knows how to give you th-the dicking you deserve. He knows what your slutty ass needs."

Morty whined in desperate agreement as the older man loomed above him like a fallen angel. Or maybe he was something more akin to a fucked-up god. Morty didn't know. All he knew was that Rick looked fucking beautiful. Even with the limited amount of light in his room, Morty could see the thin sheen of sweat glittering against Rick's ashen skin. His eye was drawn to the clenching flex and release of Rick's muscles as he pumped his hips and the animalistic sparkle in his grandpa’s eye as he seemed to devour the debauched picture Morty presented. Morty could make out the thin tendrils of sweat-soaked hair clinging to Rick's forehead from the exertion of fucking him at such a steady, rapid pace. He was drawn by the sight of Rick's thin frame, the sharp lines of his ribs, and the uneven rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

It was beyond attractive, all of it, and when Rick growled out his pleasure and leaned over the teen's body, nearly possessive in his actions, as though he were hiding Morty from the rest of the world, Morty was quick to slide both of his arms under Rick's and grab desperately at his back. The teen could feel the half-moon imprints his fingernails were leaving behind in Rick's skin every time he took a new hold, but Rick didn't seem to mind.

If anything, the older man seemed to take it as encouragement.

Rick finally released Morty's mouth, exposing a red handprint across half of the boy's face, and claimed his mouth with undisguised hunger. If Rick was put off by the taste of lube on Morty's lips, he didn't show it, and Morty couldn't have cared less. He was far too busy forcing his tongue past Rick's teeth to care about anything other than the fucking Rick was giving him. Both were far too eager for their own pleasure for the kiss to be anything other than sloppy. It was wet with too much spit and too much tongue and absolutely no finesse, but neither of them payed any attention to that. It was one of the hottest kisses they'd ever shared, and when Rick readjusted on his knees and slowed down just a fraction, driving into Morty and holding the teen's legs to the his body with a firm chest and an unyielding stance, Morty started to cry out into his mouth. Rick was rubbing directly against his prostate with just enough speed and force to have the teen near tears. It felt impossibly good, so good that he wanted to squirm away from it, knowing that he'd mourn the loss immediately if he were to succeed. The constant contact was forcing violent shivers through his body at an alarming rate, but Rick didn't do anything other than swallow down the filthy sounds pouring from Morty's mouth, claiming them as his own as he continued to fuck the willing body beneath him.

Eventually, though, they both needed to breathe. Rick didn't pull back from him as much as he simply left space between their mouths. Rick's lips were poised directly above his, within reach for Morty to lick and nip and tease as Rick fucked the life out of him. Oxygen mingled between them, shared and received, every whimper, every groan, every little mewl of sound from Morty's own lips stolen greedily by Rick. But, all too soon, Morty could feel his balls tighten up as the pressure continued to build. His fingernails no longer left mere imprints in Rick's back as he raked them over his lover's flesh.

"Rick!" he choked out, his eyes open wide, lust-blown and glassy with desperation as he gasped for air. "Rick! Please, Rick, I need -- I need to cum. Oh, God, Rick! Please!"

His grandpa's eyes flared with possessive heat, and Rick stopped pulling his punches altogether. He didn't speed up, apparently comfortable with the already fast pace, but he added power to his thrusts, slamming into Morty's ass to the point where he was slowly forcing the teen further up the bed with every swing of his hips.

"Y-you need to cum, Morty? You gonna cum all over your -- all over your grandpa's fist? Huh, Morty?" Rick stuttered, his tone demanding an answer.

"Fuck! Yeah, Rick, yeah. Please, Rick! Give it to me!"

The brunet's muscles tightened sharply around Rick's cock, and the older man swore, sitting back up on his knees so he could get a good grip on Morty's cock.

The first touch was electric, and Morty arched up from the bed with a strangled sound, slamming his hips up towards the promise of friction as his fingers scrabbled for purchase, clawing at the bedding as Rick pounded into him with a single-minded focus.

"Christ, Morty! So fuckin' tight, babe," The older man panted. "Your ass is made for my cock, Morty. Nobody else. Nobody else will ever have you like I have you. Say it!"

Morty keened, writhing as Rick fisted his cock, and he gave in without a hint of a fight.

"Yours! Oh, God, Rick! Only yours! My ass is yours, just -- please!"

Like he knew exactly where it was, every single one of Rick's strokes seemed to strike his prostate just right. The fingers around his cock tightened, working him faster, corkscrewing near the base and leaving Morty breathless. His green eyes were bugging out, his lips parted in a silent scream as Rick forced pleasure through his body faster and faster, building it up like he'd never reach the peak.

In seconds, Morty was falling apart and coming with a shrill scream that Rick was just barely able to lean over and muffle with his own mouth. Morty bucked desperately under Rick, driving his hips up towards the hand wrapped around his cock, spilling himself all over Rick's hand and both of their stomachs as he rode out the pleasure, his body clenching and spasming around Rick's cock, pulling a slew of gorgeous noises from Rick's mouth as well.

The moment Morty fell silent, Rick was pulling their mouths apart and sitting back up, aggressively seeking out his own pleasure. He had both hands on Morty's hips, digging his long, spindly fingers sharply into the teen's bones as he pulled Morty's body back to meet every one of his thrusts. It was lovely, overwhelming, and almost uncomfortable, but Morty didn't give a single shit. He was swimming in endorphins -- drowning in them, more like -- and every stroke just made him fall into it that much deeper.

Before long, though, the teen was partially startled out of it when Rick’s thrusts lost their rhythm. Morty forced his eyes open, hungry for Rick's face as the older man neared his completion, and Morty whimpered when Rick's fingers dug just a little deeper into his hips.

"Shit, Morty. Fuck! Christ, your ass is perfect, Morty. Tell me where you want it, babé. Tell me where you want me to cum."

Flushed and all but delirious from the overstimulation, Morty whined and arched his back from the bed as he moaned out, "Inside. C-cum inside, Rick."

Rick's thrusts faltered for a second, a look of shock breaking through the intense focus. Morty never asked him to come inside of him. Rick almost always did it anyway, especially when the teen was being a brat, but they both knew Morty didn't generally like it. It was a mess, one Morty was always left to deal with alone, and it generally resulted in him having to sleep on a towel lest he add another stain to his sheets.

The shock of that desire from his grandson, in combination with how close he already was, must have pushed Rick over the edge because seconds later the older man's face contorted with pleasure. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as he slammed his length all the way in with a low, animalistic growl that sent a shiver of renewed arousal racing through Morty's spent cock as his lover came deep inside of him with a hot splash.

Rick's thrusts slowed after that, his movements lagging with exhaustion before stopping altogether. When Rick finally pulled out he dropped to the edge of the bed beside his grandson, breathing heavily as he swam through what Morty imagined was the bliss of an especially good climax.

But, as Rick enjoyed the peaceful afterglow of his orgasm, Morty was slowly coming back to himself.

It was the moment he dreaded above all others. More than being woken up by Rick, more than the reminder of the past, more than having to _beg_ , Morty hated what came after the orgasm was over. With his mind no longer swimming with lust, Morty was forced to see what he'd done. He was left feeling sticky, damp with sweat and lube and his own cum, tainted by the feelings of cheap inadequacy that fueled his budding self-hatred. All of the illusions were gone. There was nothing between Morty and reality, and this time was especially bad. He'd broken and shown Rick his heart. He'd begged for an emotional connection, and, while he'd gotten that without a fight, he knew that he'd pay for it down the road. Rick would be more aggressive with him next time, biting him until he left big bruises that Morty would have to try and cover up. He'd take out the teen's desperation on him, like it was Morty's fault he felt that way, and then he'd be an extra big dick to him during their adventures in the coming days.

But the first thing that'd happen, the thing that was getting ready to happen, was that Rick would sit up and start putting his clothes back on, intending to leave as soon as possible. Something that was already happening with alarming speed as Rick stood and slipped his sweater on. It was one of the most consistent things that happened in their sexual relationship. Even before, when things were still good, Rick insisted on leaving. He didn't the first night, but, every night after that, he reminded Morty that they weren't alone. He reminded him that if anybody caught them, it'd be hell for both of them. He reminded Morty how risky it was for him to stay. Then he stopped giving reasons at all, choosing to leave without a word.

Morty's heart quivered at that, remembering the first time that happened and how badly it'd hurt him. How badly it'd hurt him every single time after that.

Morty’s green eyes filled with tears.

He should've been used to it by now. He should've been used to Rick leaving him. He shouldn't have been bothered by the fact that Rick never stayed to snuggle with him. Just earlier he'd thought about Rick leaving when they were done as a definite pro to the situation, but now... Now Morty's heart felt exposed. He felt alone, used, and about to be cast aside. For the briefest second, it felt like they were still in the past, like Rick was trying to bring him pleasure just for the sake of making him feel good rather than as a byproduct to getting his own rocks off, and Morty hadn't anticipated how much that had caught him off guard. He didn't anticipate a lot of things -- like the way he reached out without thought and grabbed the sleeve of Rick's labcoat, preventing Rick from leaving right away.

The scientist gazed down at him with an unimpressed look, his lips curled in a frown as he stared at the hold Morty had on his coat.

"What, Morty?"

Morty flinched at the cold, dismissive tone in Rick's voice, so much different than any of the ways he sounded when they slept together.

He felt torn. Morty wasn't exactly sure why he'd reached out to Rick, not when he knew that it wouldn't get him anywhere. But now... With Rick still there, looking at him and waiting for an answer, Morty felt more vulnerable than ever. It felt like his heart was seconds away from shattering, and, after being so emotionally bared to Rick for the first time in weeks, Morty didn't know how to seal himself away again. At least not right away. He didn't know how to protect himself from what was happening and Rick's inevitable rejection. He didn't know how to do anything.

But Rick was already bound and determined to flick him shit. Rick was already bound to make his life a living hell until the next time he appeared in his room, just to prove a point, and since Morty was already headed for the chopping block, he let himself be open. Even as he anticipated the sting of denial.

"Stay. Please, Rick, please stay. Just this once."

As he'd anticipated, the older man sneered at the request and pulled his arm away from Morty's hold, tearing a piece of the teen's heart out right alongside it.

"Why would I want to do that, Morty? What possible reason could I have f-f-for staying in here with you? Not counting the fact that it's stupid on every fucking level _imaginable_ , I have better shit to do Morty. Y-y-you're --"

"Worthless. Yeah, I know," Morty said, cutting Rick off with a defeated tone and eyes that couldn't meet Rick's, completely missing the startled look on his grandpa's own features. "I know you don't care, Rick. I know th-th-that you use me for sex because it's convenient a-and I won't say no. I know I'm useless and just a cheap slut for you to -- to..."

Morty hiccuped and his throat tightened as the tears brimming in his eyes finally spilled over. He was quick to try and scrub them away, hating the fact that he was crying in front of Rick, hating the burn of shame in his eyes and his cheeks and his entire body. He'd thought the words before but it was so much different to say them, especially to Rick. It hurt on a level that Morty hadn't expected, but he kept going anyway, ready to just get it out and cement his place in Rick's world.

"I-I'm a tool, and a worthless sack of shit. You don't have to tell me again. I... I know my place, Rick."

By the time Morty looked up, Rick's features were schooled into a neutral expression once more, not betraying an ounce of the heartbreak turning the worthless, shriveled up hunk of muscle inside his ribs to dust.

"But please, Rick," Morty pleaded, tears streaming down his face as he begged. "I-I-I need this. I need to feel like y-y-you -- like you..." _Like you love me._ "Just... Please, Rick. Just pretend. Just for tonight. Please."

The older man stood there for another long second, staring down at his grandson's tear-stained face, his gaze indifferent and shut down to the point where Morty was almost positive that he was going to walk away and deny his request.

But, to Morty's disbelief, he didn't.

Rick sighed as though it pained him to do so, but he was still shrugging off his labcoat and grumbling at Morty to scoot over. The teen obeyed immediately, starstruck that Rick had actually listened to him, and that feeling grew into something even Morty couldn't name when Rick chose to lie on his side and open his arms, inviting his grandson in. Morty was quick to comply.

He immediately plastered himself up against Rick's front and held onto him like it were the last time Rick would ever be with him like this. And maybe it was. Maybe Rick wouldn't come back to his bed after tonight, deeming the emotional attachment Morty had to him too annoying or inconvenient to work around. Morty didn't know. All he knew was that Rick was holding him and occasionally petting his hair, and it felt like the best thing in the world.

"There," Rick grumbled, not making a move to leave even as his next words made it sound like that's exactly what he was about to do. "Ya happy, ya little shit?"

Morty nodded against Rick's chest, not saying anything for the longest time as he trembled and cried silently in Rick's arms, soaking up his attention like a desert devoid of rain for an entire lifetime.

But eventually, the teen spoke up.

"Will you lie to me?" Morty asked, the question no more than a whisper.

Rick didn't respond immediately. They both knew what Morty was asking, what he really needed from this exchange, but Rick still remained quiet.

Though it pained the older man to admit, he really did care about Morty. He rarely ever showed that, he rarely acknowledged it himself, but Rick had a heart. A very real heart that felt like it had a smoldering gunshot wound through the center of it when he thought about what Morty said about himself and what he was asking for. But that's how it had to be. Rick wasn't in love with Morty. He cared about him, but he didn't love his grandson the way Morty wanted. And even if he had, he never would've let Morty know that.

There could never be anything lasting between them. He would always fuck up. He would never see Morty as enough of an equal to treat fairly. He'd never stop drinking and sleeping around. He'd never stop manipulating his grandson to get what he wanted. He'd never be a good man, and there was never any real guarantee that the next day wouldn't be his last, whether that was due to his own mistakes, the horrible way he treated his body, or an adventure gone wrong. And while Rick was selfish, almost to the point of self-destruction at times, he wasn't selfish enough to take Morty's entire life from him. No more than he already had. But that didn't mean he was willing to give up what he had either.

So Rick lied. He lied without having to lie at all.

"I love you, Morty."

And at those softly spoken words, those three little words that Morty felt like he'd been waiting an entire lifetime to hear from somebody that mattered, Morty's heart finally burst.

It cracked inside his chest and imploded, splattering everything that was kept inside all over the backs of his ribs. The teen pulled Rick closer to him and buried his face in the older man's chest so he wouldn't have to look at anything anymore. It hurt when his heart blew out. It left his chest empty but so, so full. It was overwhelming, the knowledge that there was nothing left of his heart to contain everything he felt anymore, that it was now out in the open for anyone to see or to step on. Morty needed something to hide himself from that, so he used Rick's body as a shield, spewing the metaphorical contents of his heart all over Rick's torso as he squeezed Rick that much tighter and prayed the older man would stay and hold him just a little longer.

"One more time?" Morty begged, squeezing Rick's body, oblivious to the pained expression on Rick's face.

"I love you, Morty," Rick lied again, his indifferent tone threatening to crack and reveal the truth hiding just beneath the surface.

But it didn't.

Rick's tone held firm, unwavering, no question to what he was saying and the fact that he didn't mean it, and that was enough for Morty. Somehow, that was enough, and when the boy returned the sentiment, Rick knew that it was just as much of a lie as his own.

Even if Morty didn't know it yet.


End file.
